


Winter

by typhe



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, LHM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhe/pseuds/typhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Van thought squeamishly of jokes they'd shared about ageing nobles who strutted about the gardens with youthful would-be brides hanging from their arms.  If that was what someone wanted to see, then they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. I drifted out of this fandom for a few years, but I've been posting a fair lot of fic on lhmfanship this year and figured I should start an AO3 sock to archive it all properly. Here's a nice fluffy start. Check [the LJ thread](http://lhmfanship.livejournal.com/32880.html#comments) for some great troll meta.

Vanyel was used to a trip to the Palace cellars being a little like descending into a mine; dank, freezing and full of things that shouldn't be touched with a naked flame. Company made it a lot more pleasant. True, it was more cramped than most of the places the Heralds selected for private parties, but most of those places had been compromised by a week of steady rain, or were otherwise occupied tonight, so a bunch of the youngsters had snuck downstairs hours ago to light lanterns and clear out a serpentine dance floor that wound in and out of four of the open stone vaults. The ceilings were so low that Tantras and Joshel both had to duck to pass under the rafters, which had made for some interesting manoueveurs, elbow-to-elbow as the dancers were - Van felt there was a welcome intimacy in the limited confines, and there were more than enough siderooms and shadowed corners to invite other kinds of intimacies for the so-inclined.

It was a strange between-times gathering, several weeks too early to mark midwinter; intentionally so, as many Heralds would be leaving Haven to spend the winter celebrations with their families. Tantras had insisted on Vanyel's presence. He'd considered declining, because he was tired and had little to say to anyone and, truly, he needed time with Stefen more than he needed to put in a sociable appearance - and then Savil had managed to goad him into bringing the bard _with_ him, an entertainment to serve as the traditional entry fee.

He was sure that was a violation of several of the unwritten rules surrounding Heralds' gatherings, but they seemed to be getting away with it. Stef was a welcome diversion; he'd sung half the night, and spent much of the rest of it allowing Van to make introductions that had led to him charming the ears off Vanyel's old friends. Van had taken the makeshift stage himself a few times, and kept his eye on Stef while he sang - watched his lover hanging from Savil's arm, flirting incorrigibly and also, Van had noticed, paying heed to her limited energy and ailing joints, keeping her out of the more energetic dances. He danced with imperfect charm; no matter, really, as Savil danced like a mule.

Van sipped at the cup of wine in his hand; his third, which counted him as a moderate in this crowd; Stefen preferred to perform sober, so hadn't even finished his first yet. No one was bothering him - Heralds were good at knowing when one of their own would prefer to be left alone - so he was free to offer all his remaining wits to Stef's playing. _It hasn't been too hard to keep sight of him - all I needed to do was look for the centre of attention, and he was right there!_ The song was something suitably old and bawdy to suit the late hour and the easy supply of drinks, and even leaning as Van was against a smoothed stone wall, alone and untroubled, he felt an enveloping cosiness made out of torchlight and old friends and familiar music, with Stef sat at its centre, not creating the atmosphere but stoking it, giving it alchemy. Unsteady thoughts.

In truth it would have been hard to _not_ stare at Stefen...

When they'd decided to combine living quarters, Van had realised how little clothing Stef owned except for his uniforms - and most of it was many times patched, and none of it had been originally made for a man as slight as he; so after enduring a few halfhearted protests Vanyel took his lifebonded to see his tailor. He'd long ago abandoned his vanities over his own appearance, but persuading Stefen to dress up a little was a delightful new pleasure, and he suspected he wasn't alone in his appreciation for the results - Stef was wearing cream linen and dark green velvet, subtly ornamented with delicate embroidery and woven cords, and his hair was held at the back of his neck by a thin black ribbon. His tunic clung perfectly to the lines of his body - Stef had complained that it made him look like an ornamented twig, but Van had assured him, both with and without words, that his striking figure had never looked finer.

So tonight Stefen looked warm and elegant and entirely beautiful, and Van thought squeamishly of jokes they'd shared about ageing nobles who strutted about the gardens with youthful would-be brides hanging from their arms. If that was what someone wanted to see, then they would.

He had spared a little of his attention for the reactions of others. Those who lived permanently in the Herald's Wing had already seen enough of their comings and goings - it was impossible to keep secrets from one's neighbours. The rest...he caught surprise, from some, either that he'd brought a companion at all, or that said companion was male, or that they shared their fond expressions so openly. Van had barely touched him all night and they'd done nothing to cause offence, but Stef's mere presence was telling enough. What little discomfort he perceived was always muted by respect; his rank and reputation brought privilege to offset those of others. No one would question his personal choices, and he held the hope that perhaps a little honesty would drive a few to rethink their own reactions. There was, Vanyel noted, one undertone to these tensions that pleased him greatly; that respect he sensed wasn't for himself alone. It had been a hard and hurtful year and they'd lost people, Kilchas and a dozen others besides, but Randale was alive and would get through the winter and the gratitude that welled up for their king's life was rightly directed at Stefen. Randi survived by pure will, and that will rested on Stefen's strength more than anything.

He tried to keep his own fretfulness at bay. There were more than enough better reactions; knowing grins and even a few words of congratulation from older Heralds, people who'd known him long enough to realise what Stefen must mean to him. Gratitude, undeserved and unexpected, from a few younger shaych Heralds, which made him feel thoughtless for not 'flaunting' himself sooner. Not every youngster had Starwind and Moondance to look to.

All these people trusted him - relied on him. That was something worth treasuring, and he thought on it as Stef held a long last chord, jumped from his seat and yielded his instrument to the next player, Kera, with a playful bow. He met Van's eyes, and was scurrying through the crowd to meet him a moment later. _He seems - relaxed_ , Van mused. _More like himself than like his Court persona. He's been playing songs_ he _likes, and enjoying it._

Stefen slid against the wall beside him, and Van offered his cup, which Stef seized and promptly drained dry. "Done for the night?" Van asked.

Stef shrugged, and set the cup down on a wide lintel built into the stone behind them. "I think so. Don't want to be out too late."

"Me either." He had drunk enough that the idea of going home with Stef shortly held a definite appeal, and he allowed himself a smile.

Which Stef returned. "Not causing too much of a stir, am I?" he asked - casually enough, but Van knew a question that came from Stef's calculating forebrain when he heard one; a good many of them amounted to _did I get away with it?_

"No," he snorted. "You have a way for winning people over." He Sent a little surge of pride - he was proud of his bondmate, and glad to see the people who, in Van's world, mattered most offer recognition to him. Not just for tonight - far from it; Stef seemed to have been gradually infecting the world with his impulsive brilliance since springtime.

_I sometimes try to remember the day before I first saw him, and I can't. It's - a blank. Whatever I was doing, it didn't matter to me as much as everything that came after._

He spared another glance at the company. It was late, and some few were still dancing to someone else's tune; more were simply enjoying being here together. He knew all of them at least by sight - _and they know me. There's not a soul here who wouldn't trust me with their_ life _, and many have_ \- Weren't they owed a little faith in return?

He caught Stef's eyes again, and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Stef startled for a second, and then relaxed onto Van's shoulder, reaching for his free hand. "You don't mind?" he asked, hushed.

"No," he murmured, smiling. "Do you?"

Stef grinned. "Oh come _on_ , can't you hear what's happening over by the door to the brandy vault?" Van sighed longsufferingly, well used to the habits of young Heralds - _I used to be one myself_ \- and Stef was right; they were acting insufferably strait-laced compared to some of the 'normal' pairs. _Lord and Lady, Stef shouldn't be thought of as any such thing!_

He stroked Stef's fingers gently, and tried to push the rest of the world away. Stef was first of all the people who were owed Van's trust - and he first of all the people who should be offering Stef some recognition - and whatever else he had to put ahead of his personal life, none of it was _here, now_ , so it didn't seem _right_ to let them matter more than this.

He leaned his head down until their brows were touching. Stef looked startled again, but gave him a smile so inviting Van couldn't possibly have resisted, and he kissed it firmly, feeling his own lips curve to match it, ignoring every abrupt hush and every drunken wolf-whistle _because I always promised myself I would take them if they came, it's worth it, you're worth it, I'm not hiding you the way I hid 'Lendel -_

Stef pulled away, just far enough for Van to look into eyes that now appeared to be on fire. "So what was that about?" Stef murmured.

Van shrugged. There was a lot he could have said - that this was as safe as company ever came, that he was tired of keeping silent about a lifebond, of all things. That they weren't doing anything wrong, merely _different_ , and their one real reason to keep this clandestine - Stefen's safety - was never going to be compromised by Heralds. That maybe it was time to stop blindly obeying his fears and start treating Stef more like a partner than like a dirty secret. That he had little else to offer for a midwinter-gift and he _owed_ Stef this.

He settled for; "Why not."

"That wasn't a question," observed Stefen.

"Indeed," he confirmed, and put an arm over his lover's shoulder. "Let's go home."


End file.
